Page 13 of The Stygian Crown
Sacrifice
Someone had ripped everything below the title of the sacrifice page out of the book. Kara found the sanguinata rune in the last few pages. She’d begun to doubt she'd find it. It read, ‘Blood binding. Bind your blood with another’s. Can be used to influence someone’s thoughts, heal them from a gravely injured state, or form a link that can’t be broken.’The description was frustratingly vague, and there were no helpful notes in the margins.Kara wanted to know how long the effects lasted—and what did ‘a link that can’t be broken’ even mean?
Kara closed the book, retrieved a piece of paper and quill and ink from the drawer of her bedside table, and practiced the runes for eavesdropping and unlocking. She repeated that until she’d committed them to memory, then burned the pages in the hearth and stuffed the grimoire beneath her mattress.
Chapter Four
Kara missed Logan. She wanted his advice, his warmth, his strength. The safety she felt when he was around. The palace was lonely, for all the people in it, and she wasn’t making much headway with her mission. The people at court were cliquish, not swift to accept an outsider. And aside from her Stygian clan members, she’d never had much luck befriending people.
Her keening was getting closer every day, and she needed to figure out a plan before it was too late. Logan had said he’d be back within the month, but she was nervous. She could try Salizar’s antidote, but what would Logan do? Find someone who needed killing? Be with someone else? Her mind rebelled at the idea of him with anyone but her. She wished she’d pressed him harder for answers before he left.
Kara glanced at the armoire containing the lover’s bowl when she returned from a ride around the palace grounds, temptation warring inside her. She ought to be charming courtiers and finding information for King Calim before he fired her, but she’d been horribly distracted lately, both by Logan and her late hours spent memorizing blood runes.
The bowl taunted her with its possibilities. Maybe she could find out where Logan was, how far away. Kara cursed and withdrew it from the armoire.
She filled the bowl with warm water and sat down with it on the floor of the bathing chamber. Her hands shook as she lowered it to the ground, sloshing water over the edge. Who else did she have a strong enough bond with to scry for? Would she be able to see where Wesley had gone, answer once and for all if he’d returned to the Sanguines? Kara gazed into the water and brought to mind a memory from their childhood, when Wesley had defended her from a group of children chanting ‘Kara the Cursed has a demon nurse.’ Wesley had pummeled the boy leading the chant to the ground, earning a black eye in the process. He’d been her champion when they were little, but over time she’d become his burden. An obligation he resented.
The water swirled, and Kara’s heart jumped into her throat. Then it went black and faded slowly until the water returned to clear. She sighed. It’d been a long shot, she supposed.
Kara focused on the water again and thought of Logan. An image bubbled to the bowl’s surface, becoming visible as the water settled.
Logan was in a tent, the flap closed.Argh.She wouldn't be able to tell where he was.
He reclined on a pallet, head resting against his saddle, flipping some tattered piece of paper over in his hands. Caressing it like a talisman. She wished she could tell what he was thinking. He looked much the same as before, though his beard had grown in more and he had dark circles under his eyes.
The tent flap opened, and the woman from the last time Kara had scried entered. Kara's stomach tightened into a knot. The woman wore diaphanous pants suited to an arid environment and a cropped dark blue top embroidered with crystal stars that bared her midriff. Logan sat up and folded the tattered paper he’d been holding, stuffing it into his pocket. He made to rise, but the woman knelt beside his pallet, stopping him. She laid her hand on Logan’s, and Kara’s grip on the edges of the bowl tightened.Damnit, Vakarian. Do something.They spoke back and forth for a moment, their words unintelligible. Kara had always been terrible at reading lips.
Then the woman leaned in close and pressed her lips to Logan’s. Her hand drifted to his chest, and she moved to straddle him. Logan didn’t move, didn't pull away. Didn’t do anything. An eternity passed in a second. Kara saw red. The outer edges of the bowl crumbled to dust beneath her fingers, and the image swirled, turning black. Her mark lit up with a fiery red glow. Rage burned in her belly. A glance in the mirror confirmed her irises were a vivid red. It took everything in her not to slam the bowl against the tile and shatter it into a thousand tiny pieces, pulverize it until it was unrecognizable. She stood up from the floor, hands coiled tight into fists, her entire body tense as emotion sawed through her chest. She wanted to run out of the palace until there was no one in sight, so she could scream at the sky.
* * *
Kara slept like shit.She tossed and turned in her bed all night, got up periodically to pace in front of the fire until she was falling asleep on her feet, then crawled back into bed again. After seeing the kiss, she’d gone to the training yard to drill for hours, exercising through her tears. When the sun set, she came inside to drill some more, pushing her body to its limits until all she could think about was the next pushup, the next punch, the next breath.
It hadn’t been enough. What a fool she’d been to believe in him. To fall for him.
A quick rap on her door woke her, and Kara slid her eyes open into slits. Judging by the sun coming through the window, it wasn’t even noon yet. She planned to spend the entire day—nay, week—in bed, crying and resisting doing bodily harm to others. Punctuated by an irresponsible amount of drinking.
“What?” Kara groaned.
Merry swept into the room, beaming. She carried a silver platter that held a steaming cup of coffee and a thick invitation card.
“What’s that?”
“An invitation.”
“So?” What the bloody hell was she so chipper about?
“It has Lord Kendrick’s seal,” Merry squealed.
Kara winced at the sound.
“Are you not pleased, my lady? Viscount Kendrick is—well, he’s everyone’s ideal man.”
Kara snorted and grabbed the card.
“Are you alright, mistress? Your face is very red this morning. You look a might peaky.”
“I’m fine.” Kara ran a nail under the card’s the thick wax seal, breaking it, and unfolded the note.
